


The Demon and The Fool

by Enchanters Nightshade (Abstract_Apotheosis)



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, As chapters are written, Birblian, Body Dysphoria, Drabbles, F/M, Healing, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, In chapter warnings, Julian Devorak Route - Reversed Ending, Non-Linear Narrative, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, oneshots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-11
Updated: 2020-02-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:00:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22668946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abstract_Apotheosis/pseuds/Enchanters%20Nightshade
Summary: The Apprentice never found him. Instead a wandering [The] Fool did. A journey of healing and companionship.
Relationships: Apprentice/Julian Devorak, Fool/Julian Devorak
Kudos: 14





	The Demon and The Fool

“Sweetie, no!” She ran towards him, grabbing at his taloned hands and pulling them _away_ from his wings. She was already too late and there was a large amount of feathers in his clutched claws.

She pouted as she lightly smacked the back of his hand, clicking her tongue in disappointment as she stood on her tiptoes to inspect the spot. He had been plucking again. Her gaze went to his face and he refused to meet hers, a stubborn look on his face as he gloomily stared off into the distance. He was distressed. She knew this. Birds plucked at their feathers when they were stressed out and apparently seven feet tall bird monsters were _no_ different.

She felt terrible for him, she really did. She couldn’t imagine anyone worth all this pain he endured. He was still changing, little by little, though there wasn’t much left to change, she supposed, and him being with her had slowed the process down to a near stop. A few things had changed- more feathers in a few select places- but, thankfully, nothing else.

She forced her fingers into his grip, making him relax it and released the plucked obsidian feathers, her eyes going from her work back up to his face. She was so small. She had to crane her neck way back to even look at his face, but she did. She did it every time because eye contact was important and she _wanted_ him to know that she saw _him_. She gave him a stern look, one filled with resolution.

“Birdie, I will go get the mittens if you keep doing this. Do you _want_ that?” The way she spoke told him an answer was _mandatory_.

“N...no…” His voice was so quiet. It felt… off to her. She felt like he should have a voice that could fill a room. A boisterous tenor with jovial tones. But instead, it was small, quiet, and often raspy, like he had forgotten how to use it.

He probably had. She had found him all by himself in a swamp one day when she had been wandering about the magic realms. She knew that she wasn’t _supposed_ to go into other people’s realms. The other Arcana were _never_ happy with her when she wandered through their realms without their permission, but… what could she say? The Fool’s path is of improvisation, of spontaneity, and of believing that the universe will lead them to where they are to go. And as The Fool, she did just that. Wandered right into a swamp realm with an overgrown, gloomy bar and line of faceless golems (who she doubted looked faceless to the intended victim) tormenting a large bird monster. And he seemed to be trying to find the bottom of an endless barrel of alcohol.

It didn’t take much for her to decide what to do with this bizarre situation. She had been alone for so long and, well, she decided he had been alone (mean golems did not count as company!) long enough too. Only, he had seemed very determined to remain in this realm of torment… so… she… well, threatened him.

She was not proud of how she got him to come with her, but what was done was done. As long as he believed her threat, well, that’s all that mattered. One day he’d realize she never would make good on it, not without his permission, but she hoped that it was when his head was a little clearer. When he was doing better. Right now, he’s still a mess.

“Doesn’t it hurt? To do that?” She held his taloned hand, rubbing her calloused thumb over the scaly skin of his wrist.

“...No… ah… uh… maybe?” He didn’t seem sure. He didn’t like looking at her. He was still quite sore at her, but too frightened of her threat still to see there was no bite to it.

“Bend down, I want to look at where you plucked. I don’t want you getting another infection after we just took care of your poor oil glands.” It really wasn’t fair she was so small.

He didn’t do as she asked right away, but she reached up and tugged at his upper arms to get him to concede. He heaved a sigh as he bent his legs and ended up sitting so she could properly see. She tried not to pout at the fact that he had two feet in height over her.

“Good boy.” She knew to praise him when he listened. Despite how much he acted like he didn’t care, to hear those words always caused his feathers to lay smooth- the tension in his form a little less than before.

She ran her fingers through his feathers. They were dull, tattered, brittle in some spots, and a little matted despite having helped wash him after they had returned to her realm. If he’d let her help him preen… but he hardly let her help him with anything without a fight. She continued her inspection. He had gotten quite a few handfuls before she caught him and he had some bald patches from his plucking. The feathers would grow back, but he was going to be uncomfortable as they did.

“Poor dear. You did quite the number on yourself, Sweetie, you’re still bleeding a bit. Come on, let’s get you inside so I can treat you.” She tugged at his claws again, inspecting them a bit too. “And your talons seem to be regenerating again. I’ll file them down again, if you want.”

Upon returning to _her_ realm, she had conjured up a nice little bungalow and farm for him to enjoy, rooms accommodating to his unique features. Typically she didn’t mind the wide empty lands for her to roam, but he seemed to need something a little more… stable. She even made sure to include nice commodities such as a spacious water closet _with_ a large bathtub, a bed big enough for his wingspan, an impressive library, and a huge kitchen.

“Ye… yes, please.” That was the only thing that got her a little perkiness- filing his talons. He didn’t like the possibility of hurting others, even if it was her.

“Then I’d be happy to do that for you. Right after I take care of your ouchie.” She smiled at him, to enforce that she _wanted_ him to be happy.

She hadn’t stolen him away from that place because of anything malignant. It was a bad place where he was being hurt by others _and_ himself. Yes, she forced him here, to this place where she could take care of him and let him _heal_ , because he had been in no cognitive shape to know what was good for him. He seemed determined to stay in that toxic environment, like some sort of self-flagellating martyr.

“Don’t…” His words trailed off, but she was patient. She watched him as his storm grey eyes shifted about as he found the words he wanted to say. “Don’t fret… over the… over the… Just… file my… th-the talons…”

“Nonsense, Birdie,” she tugged at his claw, pulling him to stand lest she drag him there with her surprisingly impressive strength. “If you are hurt, you need to take care of the ouchie, lest it get infected. Since you don’t seem up to the task, I will easily _and_ _happily_ assist you! So don’t worry about it! I can do both!”

She reassured him with a toothy smile. He sighed, but didn’t argue with her. She patted the back of his taloned hand, lacing the fingers of her closest hand between his and holding it assuringly. He didn’t fight and she took it as a good sign.

Once inside, he sat on the floor. She pouted a bit, but relented to it because otherwise she’d have to stand on a chair. It was a purposeful, noverbal jab at her height. He did this from time to time when he thought he could get away with it and, goodness, he was _good_ at hitting her where it hurt.

“Ah! So thoughtful, Sweetie! Now stay still while I go get some supplies.” She pretended that was where she wanted him all along. His poker face was fantastic, but his wings gave away his disappointment. _Brat_.

It didn’t take her long to find her things and return. Normally, being that she was The Fool, she’d use her magic to heal a wound like this, but with Birdie- that was a big no. He didn’t like magic. It made him uncomfortable and he would cringe away from it, so, _for now_ , she did things the non-magical way. She hadn’t conjured up anything since adding this place to her realm’s design.

“Birdie stop!” She shouted, dropping the things she had just collected to lunge at him. She grabbed his wrist and stopped him before he could yank out more feathers.

He jolted, glossed over eyes clearing a bit as he realized what he had been doing. He had the decency to at least look abashed for starting up so soon after a reproach. She hadn’t even yet tended to his previous one. She gave him a long, stern look, eyes watering up a bit because it was just so sad to her how stressed he was. How terrible his body dysphoria was. She was trying to help but healing took time and patience, and this was merely the beginning of a long journey.

“M-mittens.” She said with a waver in her tone. She was trying not to cry. “Until you don’t _mindlessly_ do this to yourself.”

He looked at his other scaled hand, thinking as she continued to hold his other hand by the wrist. There were two paths he could take. She was The Fool. She knew a thing or two about choices. He could either fight her about wearing the mittens (because she _knew_ they made him feel stupid and co-dependant, unfortunate side effects to the treatment) or he could concede and stop the bad habit from developing further.

She could tell he was thinking long and hard about his options. It was an important hurdle, no matter how small it might have seemed to others. To help aid in his own healing or to struggle against the assistance.

His free hand raised habitually as he thought and as she was about to shout again, because he was reaching up to pluck out _more_ feathers as he thought, he startled, suddenly aware of what he had been about to do. His scaly hand dropped into his lap with a thunk. He sighed and his wings sagged down with his shoulders.

If her hearing hadn’t been as excellent as it was, she might have missed the quiet word of ‘mittens’ mumbled under his breath as he took his wrist out of her hold to lace it with his other taloned hand to keep them from trouble.

She didn’t hide her elation as she swooped down a bit to place a happy kiss on his cheek. “Thank you.” She told him earnestly. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

His feathers fluffed up as he looked anywhere but at her, completely flustered by her entire reaction. He didn’t understand why she was so happy as she bound away once more to go get those awful mittens. He conceded, is all, to the fact that it was a problem- especially if he would keep getting scolded by her for it. The tiny thing was _relentless_ about it and it was _annoying_.

She returned quickly enough _with mittens in tow_ and he made no movement against her placing his taloned hands into the thick quilted mittens that allowed him no dexterous use of his hands at all and even allowed her to secure the velcro at the wrists so he could not shake them off. She smiled the whole time, elated that he had let her. He didn’t know why her smile made him feel funny, so he avoided looking at her.

“I’ll still file your claws, don’t worry.” She reassured him, “But first let me tend to your injuries. Oh, thank you, Birdie! Thank you for letting me help!”

His feathers puffed out further and he made a sort of bird noise. It was embarrassing. All of it. He didn’t get why it made her so happy… but her smile was nice to see, he supposed. He could wear the mittens for a little while, to at least placate her a bit.

She was almost done with tending to his small infliction when she spoke again. “Can I preen you too?!”

Having nice blunt talons be damned, he escaped her quickly. He used the wings attached to his back to knock her over so she couldn’t immediately give chase, and retreated into his given bedroom and sat in front of the door after securing it shut. He could hear her whine as he barred her from following, but he stayed seated there, sulking indignantly at her comment. Could she _preen_ him? _Hmph_.

“ _Birdieeeeeeeee_ ~”


End file.
